


In This Room of White

by hpstrangelove



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Caning, Dubious Consent, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Snarry-A-Thon16, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6830218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpstrangelove/pseuds/hpstrangelove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I told you you’d be begging me for more. You crave this, Harry, this punishment, this pain. It gives you pleasure because you know it’s what you deserve, it’s the price you must pay for continuing to live, when so many others have died.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	In This Room of White

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by Robert Mapplethorpe’s polaroid series, Charles and Jim.
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful friends **sestra-prior** for SpaG and Britpick, and **winoniel** for SpaG. I would not be writing without your support.

His eyes opened sluggishly as the emptiness in his head began to fade. He looked around the dimly lit room. With the exception of a small mattress he was lying on, pushed into one corner, the room was completely bare. The walls were brick, made smooth by multiple coats of white paint. 

He sat up and rested his back against the wall. There was a rusty metal door across from him, the only opening into the tiny room. A single light, encased in protective wire mesh, protruded from the wall above the door. It cast a weak, yellowish glow, not even bright enough for him to see the ceiling. He couldn’t tell if it was ten or one hundred feet above his head. 

He took a deep breath then exhaled slowly, trying to clear his thoughts, trying to think back, trying to remember.

Where was he? How did he get here? How _long_ had he been here? God, he was naked, too. There didn’t seem to be a toilet, sink, or running water of any kind, yet the room didn’t smell of urine or feces – or sex. He felt clean, so he must be bathing regularly. He didn’t feel hungry or thirsty, either. When had he last eaten?

But what bothered him the most was that he had no idea who he was!

He looked over at the door. He’d just assumed it was locked. Maybe it led to another room, where there was a bathroom or kitchen, or a door that led to the outside.

He rose quickly from the mattress and walked over to the door. He turned the doorknob and pulled. Yes, he’d been right to assume it would be locked. 

The walls suddenly felt like they were collapsing in on him, making the room smaller. He had to get out of here! If he didn’t, the room would become so small that he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe!

He pounded on the door with his fists, the sound of metal echoing around the room. 

“Help!” he shouted. “Is anyone out there? Please, let me out! I need to get out!”

He continued hitting the door in desperation, calling out until his voice had gone hoarse. He was about to fall to the floor in exhaustion when the light above the door flared bright, followed by the sound of a key turning in the lock…

He took a step back as the door opened. A tall, thin man with dark hair stepped into the room.

Their eyes met. Adrenaline surged through his body as fear and panic took hold of him at the sight of the man. He glanced to his left and right, then behind the man to the still open door, looking for a way to escape. 

The man gave him a sinister smile.

“I have warned you about making noise like that, but being the stubborn brat that you are, I expect you will never learn your place here. However, I do not mind the extra work you cause me. I thoroughly enjoy punishing you, so please, feel free to continue to break the rules. You might have been able to get away with your reckless ways when Dumbledore was in charge, but that is no longer the case now that I’ve taken over.” 

He started towards the door, trying to get around the man. Before he could take two steps, the man shouted, “ _Incarcerous!_ ”

To his utter shock, ropes wrapped around his wrists, then slithered snake-like through a metal ring bolted into the now-visible ceiling. The ropes pulled taut, stretching his arms up over his head. Two more ropes wrapped around his ankles, pulling his feet apart, spreading him wide, then tethering themselves around more rings bolted into the floor. He twisted frantically, struggling against the ropes as they continued to shorten themselves, rendering him suspended in place, his feet barely touching the ground. Realizing the futility of his situation, he stopped fighting. He hung there, utterly helpless, every part of his body open and exposed to the dark-haired man.

“For years, I had to put up with you being under Dumbledore’s protection, being his favorite, his ‘golden boy’.” 

The man had moved behind him, pressing up against him. He could feel the man’s breath, hot on the back of his neck, could feel the rough, scratchy texture of the man’s clothing. 

“I used to fantasize about punishing you, giving you a good caning, followed by a good fucking. And you would beg me for more, proving what a dirty little pain-whore you really are – not so golden after all!”

A light kiss was planted on his neck, quickly becoming painful as it turned into a harsh bite. Fingers began to pinch and twist one of his nipples; at the same time, a hand cupped and roughly massaged his balls. He squirmed in his bonds, trying to stay quiet, but couldn’t suppress a moan as the sensations began to arouse him. 

“Now that he’s gone, I no longer have to fantasize.”

“Please, wait! I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know who you are! I don’t know who I am, or what I’ve done! Please, don’t hurt me. Let me go!”

“Don’t hurt you – now that _is_ a good one. So the great Harry Potter does not remember who he is. Well, no matter. Whether you remember who you are or not is immaterial to me. My orders remain the same. You are to be punished.”

 _Harry Potter?_ The name sounded so familiar. Is that who he was? But as he tried to remember, his head began to throb with pain. There were memories there, but they were hazy, as if he were looking through a dense fog. He could see a bright red light and explosions all around him, hear screams as people died…people who died because of _him_ , because Harry Potter had failed to save them…

He heard a swishing sound, felt the pressure as something made hard contact with his arse cheek. It was a moment before the pain registered, stinging his arse, then flaring through his entire body as if he’d been shocked by electricity. He gasped as his body trembled. 

A second strike came, followed quickly by a third. “ _Ah!_ ” he cried out loudly, tears beginning to well in his eyes. The pain burned, but there was something else inside him, burning to get out…

The man took Harry’s cock in his hand and squeezed. Harry was mortified to find himself getting hard, dripping with precome in anticipation of the pain to follow. What had the man called him? _Pain-whore_?

A fourth strike… a fifth… a sixth... 

Harry’s tears were running freely down his face. “Please,” he gasped, “touch me. Touch me again, like before.”

The man took Harry’s cock in his hand again, rubbing his thumb over the tip, then digging his nail harshly into the slit. Harry jerked against the ropes, tilting his hips forward, trying to fuck the man’s hand.

“I told you you’d be begging me for more. You crave this, Harry, this punishment, this pain. It gives you pleasure because you know it’s what you deserve; it’s the price you must pay for continuing to live, when so many others have died.”

The next blow, harder than all the ones which had come before it, sent Harry over the edge. He threw his head back and screamed, his orgasm shuddering through him as one last strike came down against his pulsing cock. His world went white with stars. As he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, he remembered who the man was.

“Severus…” he whispered.

Then he knew no more.

~*~

Warm arms were wrapped around him. The light above the door had gone dim again. He didn’t want to move and disturb the peacefulness of the moment, but he had so many questions. He leaned up on his elbow and looked Severus in the face. 

“I don’t understand what’s happening. Where am I? And why couldn’t I remember who I was?”

Severus frowned. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Harry swallowed hard. “Yes, I’m sure. I need to know what’s going on with me, why I’m here.”

“There was an attack in Diagon Alley, some new Death-Eater copy-cats. They used several Muggle explosive devices rather than magical ones. There was a children’s birthday party at Fortescue's…”

Severus closed his eyes a moment, taking a deep breath. Harry could hear a slight trembling in the man’s voice as he continued.

“You and Ron Weasley managed to put up shield charms, but some of the younger children panicked at the sound of the first explosion. They ran out from behind the shield, their parents chasing after them.”

A tear ran down Severus’ face. Harry just shook his head, his own eyes filling with tears. 

“Oh my god, Hermione…and Rose…”

He remembered it all now, a flood of emotions washing over him, the screams of happy children playing games, eating ice cream, turning into screams of fear. Ron and Hermione with Rose and Hugo, Draco and Astoria with Scorpius, Neville and Hannah with Jacob…the sound of the first explosion, two shops down. Auror reflexes taking over, he and Ron throwing up protective shields… They would have all been safe, except some of the children had panicked…

Severus’ voice startled Harry from his thoughts. “You couldn’t accept their deaths. You blamed yourself, of course. That ‘saving people’ thing you have, except this time, you couldn’t save them all. You had a breakdown afterward. You have been confined to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s ever since.”

Harry buried his face in his hands. “No, no, it can’t be true…they can’t all be dead…” 

Severus rose from the mattress and walked over to the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” Harry cried, jumping up quickly to follow, grabbing Severus by the arm. “You can’t leave me like this, not now, not after I remember what happened.”

“You know I cannot stay. I must follow my orders.”

“Orders? Whose orders? I don’t understand. Please, please, don’t leave me here. I need you. You’re my husband. I haven’t forgotten that!”

Severus stared down at him. “They are _your_ orders, Harry. You only let me in when you want to be punished. Then I have to leave.”

Harry’s stomach lurched at Severus’ words. “What are you going on about?”

“This prison is of your own making. The door is only locked in your mind. You may leave it any time you choose. But _you_ must make the choice. You must decide when the punishment has been enough. No one holds you responsible for Hermione or Rose, or for Neville and Jacob, or for…” He paused, then leaned in. Grabbing a fistful of Harry’s hair, he forced Harry’s head back and kissed him, long and hard. 

When Severus finally broke the kiss, he turned and opened the door, then stepped back. Harry stared at the open door, unable to move, unable to speak, paralyzed with fear – and grief. 

“Or for me and our son,” Severus finished. “I can tell you over and over, our deaths were not your fault, but you must be the one to see it. When you do, you will be able to walk through that door and join the wizarding world once more. Until then, I will continue to personify your subconscious, forced to act on your orders, punishing you for your perceived failure, then protecting your mind from the pain your memories cause.”

Severus raised his wand. “ _Obliviate!_ ”

~*~

“How did he sleep last night?” Ron asked.

Severus sat next to the bed, holding Harry’s limp hand. For the past five years, Ron had visited every morning before going to work. Severus could tell he missed his best friend as much as Severus missed his husband. Neither of them was willing to admit that Harry might never wake up.

“Mostly undisturbed, but there was an hour or so when he was quite active. He had a”–Severus paused, flushing slightly–“sexual climax, then a while later, he became quite agitated and began to cry.”

“You’re the most skilled Legilimens that I know,” Ron said, a hint of desperation in his tone. “Isn’t there some way you can enter Harry’s mind, work out what they’ve done, and fix it?”

The Lestrange brothers had captured Harry; they’d had him for over a week, physically and mentally torturing him. It made Severus sick with fury. If he’d been with Ron and the other Aurors when they’d found Harry, Severus would have killed them both. As it was, the brothers had managed to Apparate before the Aurors could break through their wards and apprehend them. 

“The mind is a powerful thing. I have entered his mind, once, but there is a barrier, some sort of door. It’s stronger than any Occlumency I’ve encountered, keeping me from reaching him. I’m afraid if I try and force my way through, I could do more damage than good. If we can find the Lestranges, I can use Legilimency or Veritaserum on them to learn exactly what they’ve done. Until then…” 

“Sorry. I know you’re doing your best. It’s just so frustrating, seeing him like this, and not being able to do anything to help.” Ron sighed. “Hermione said to tell you she’ll be visiting this afternoon. I’d better be going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then Ron was gone. Severus sat in silence, hating this room of white, staring at Harry’s pale face. 

~*~

His eyes opened sluggishly as the emptiness in his head began to fade. He looked around the dimly lit room. With the exception of a small mattress he was lying on, pushed into one corner, the room was completely bare. The walls were brick, made smooth by multiple coats of white paint…

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment here or at [Livejournal](http://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3616678.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1568057.html), or [Dreamwidth](http://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/871005.html).


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